


Slip Stroke

by Insomniac



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Pool Table Sex, competitive matt, confident showoff mark, dumb jokes and double entendre, like... uh... a lot, not-quite-snowballing, sticks and balls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 15:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniac/pseuds/Insomniac
Summary: So pool wasn't really Matt's game, butthis? He was a champ at this.





	Slip Stroke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skipp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skipp/gifts).



> Disclaimer: This story isn't real. But you knew that, didn't you? If you happen to be or know any of the above-mentioned people, go ahead and close this tab. We'll just pretend this never happened.
> 
>    
> Slip stroke: a billiards technique where the player briefly releases the grip of their back hand to let the cue slip, then tightens their grip again right before hitting the ball.
> 
> Dedicated to/inspired by Skipp, for simply asking who was gonna write Mark and Matt fucking on a billiard table, and well, here ya go!

“I don’t know why I thought you’d be better at this,” Mark teased, leaning over the pool table and looping his index finger over the tip of the cue stick. He slid the stick back and forth through the hole he’d created with his fingers, squinting and examining the angle. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Mr. Pool Shark,” Matt scoffed. He hated to admit it, but he was just a little competitive. He shouldn’t have been, really, because it wasn't like he had a ton of experience playing pool. His excuse was that he was too twitchy for something that called for so much precise aim.

Mark gave a sly grin and a nod, slight arrogance shining through.

Matt rolled his eyes in response. As irritating as it was that he was losing, watching Mark concentrate and be so confident was… really hot. 

It was just the two of them in the practice space that day, messing around with lyrics and riffs. Recently, Mark and Travis had pitched in to buy a pool table for the next room over. During a break, Mark suggested they play. Matt thought it'd be easy enough from what he remembered, but that wasn’t quite the case.

Mark hadn’t bothered to sculpt his hair into his signature style that day. It flopped down over the side of his face in a wistful curl. He looked back at the table, eyes on the white ball, glancing up at the purple ball he was likely trying to hit. He continued pushing and pulling the stick through the loop of his fingers. 

It was weirdly arousing. Matt watched very closely before he had to look away. He spoke up to cut through the salacious path his mind had started traveling down. “Are you gonna shoot any time soon, or are you just gonna fuck your hand?”

"What, you jealous?" Mark replied, peeking up at Matt before returning his gaze to the ball and biting his lip. With a sharp jerk of his arm, he shot with frustrating accuracy. The solid purple ball flew into a corner pocket. He raised his eyebrows at Matt, silently bragging.

“Maybe." Matt crossed his arms. "Stop trying to distract me with how handsome you are."

Mark shot again and a solid yellow ball inched closer to the side pocket. He then pointed to a striped ball, one of the ones Matt was trying to sink. “Aim for the green, just hit the cue ball dead-center and you’ll get the side of it."

Sighing, Matt bent over the table and spread the fingers of his left hand on the fabric, setting the cue stick over his middle finger and curling his index finger over it. He closed one eye, lining up the tip to the center of the ball, sure that he would hit it right this time. He pulled the stick back, then shot it forward, quick and forceful.

The ball spun, veering to the left and circling back toward him without hitting anything else.

“What the fuck?” Matt stared at the white ball, personally offended that it would return to him.

“That would’ve been impressive if you did it on purpose,” Mark laughed, walking over to Matt’s side. “Alright, try again, let me show you. Line up like you’re going to hit it.”

Matt sighed, bending over the table again. He positioned his hands on the stick and the table, respectively. “What am I screwing up here?"

Mark moved behind him, and to Matt's pleasant surprise, leaned over his back, solid weight against him. He gave Matt's shoulder a small peck. His left hand curved over Matt’s index finger, keeping it snug around the stick. “Keep this tight so you have more control,” he told him.

“You want me to keep it tight, huh?” Matt arched his back, pushing his ass against Mark.

Mark just let out a quiet snicker before moving on. “Test out the angle you’re shooting at to make sure you hit it right.” 

Matt tried his best to absorb what Mark was telling him, but he was having trouble caring about his technique when everything Mark was saying sounded suggestive. It didn’t help that Mark was on him, jerking the cue sharply into the hole formed by Matt’s fingers. He was already a little worked up just from watching Mark play.

“You got it?” Mark asked, standing up and resting his hands on Matt's waist.

“Maybe,” Matt started, grinding back on Mark for a second. “You wanna show me again though, just in case?"

Mark laughed low and held him tighter, leaning back down to kiss behind his ear. “You're shameless,” he growled, causing Matt to hum underneath him. He rocked his hips briefly before releasing Matt and stepping aside to give him room.

Matt would have much rather continued  _that_ , but he eyed the ball, trying to follow Mark’s advice. He stared down the angle. If he hit the ball right in the middle, he’d get it. He slid the cue stick through his fingers a couple of times, testing it out. With a shove of his right hand, he hit the white ball, miraculously inching that green striped ball closer to a corner pocket.

“Fucking finally,” he groaned.

“See, you got it, babe.” Mark smiled, stepping to take his shot.

In a few more turns, Mark only had three more balls to get in, and Matt had… well, most of them still on the table. Mark even shot behind his back, and he still got one in. Matt continued to miss spectacularly with some occasional success.

“Maybe you’re just too good,” Matt sighed after Mark sunk his third-to-last ball.

Mark cocked his head to concede to the compliment. He rounded the table to shoot again, but was interrupted by Matt’s hand on his chest.

“I think you need some obstacles to make it fair,” Matt smirked. He stood in front of Mark, leaning back against the table with his other hand gripping the edge.

“Oh yeah?” Mark moved in closer. His proximity and challenging tone quickened Matt’s pulse. 

So pool wasn’t exactly Matt's game, but _this_? He was a champ at this.

“Yeah,” Matt replied, lifting himself up to sit on the edge of the table, legs wide.

Mark met his lips in a grinning, knowing kiss.

Matt wrapped his legs around him. “I’m sure you can do it, you’re so good at this game,” he baited, placing a hand behind Mark’s head and and kissing down to his neck.

“Hmm, don’t know about this,” Mark giggled, clumsily positioning his arms around Matt, nudging him in an actual attempt to make the shot. 

Matt tightened his thighs around him and added tongue to the kisses he planted on Mark’s neck. He wanted Mark to know he was done playing. “You’re just gonna have to figure something out,” he said against Mark’s skin, then bit lightly before pulling off to lean back onto the table, using Mark’s weight to balance himself out. 

Once he was lying down, he laced his fingers together behind his head, elbows out. The remaining balls rolled aside, effectively ruining the game. The ledge of the table set him at a slight inversion, serving to put his growing erection on very prominent display.

“Yeah, guess so,” Mark smiled, raking his eyes over Matt. Matt’s shirt had ridden up a little, and Mark teased his fingers at the hem before bending down to kiss his revealed skin, pressing purposefully on his crotch.

“Hard for me already?” He smirked up at Matt.

Matt reached and brushed his fingers through Mark's unusually soft hair, sweeping it away from his face. “You just looked so fucking handsome showing off how good you are with the ol' stick and balls.” He quirked his eyebrows.

Mark laughed, loud and uninhibited. “Ah yes, the ol’ stick and balls, my favorite game,” he returned, his voice lifting with humor.

“Oh I know it is,” Matt replied, unabashedly rubbing himself on Mark.

Mark’s smile turned into a devilish look that made Matt so very thankful that he was bad at pool. As Mark crawled onto the table, Matt slid further up to fully lay on it. A thrill coursed though him with Mark kneeling over him.

He grabbed Mark’s waistband, pulling toward himself.

Mark leaned down, bracing his forearms next to Matt's head and catching his lips in an unchaste, dragging kiss. 

Matt wasted no time, parting his lips and flitting his tongue out to slide into Mark’s mouth. He chased the gruff, muffled sound that followed. 

Mark turned them to their sides and slid his hand down Matt's abdomen. 

Matt tilted up toward his hand, willing Mark to touch him. His waistband eased as Mark unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, slipping his hand over his briefs. Matt sighed at the feeling of Mark's hand rubbing over his dick through the fabric.

“Take these off,” Mark ordered, tugging on the open fly of his jeans.

Matt sat up, kicking his jeans off and removing his shirt for good measure. He loved it when Mark took charge. It was worth losing an inconsequential game if it meant this kind of boost to Mark’s ego.

Mark followed suit, undressing down to his boxers, then pulled him close again.

"God, I wish I could fuck you over this table," he breathed against Matt's lips, fitting his thigh between Matt’s. The force with which he emphasized ‘fuck’ was the vocal equivalent of a thrust.

Matt shivered at the want in his voice and the heat of his body. He pushed closer, wanting more contact from every part of him. "Really need to carry a travel-sized bottle of lube everywhere," he chuckled.

"Next time," Mark grinned into a kiss, slipping his hand into the back of Matt’s briefs. His hand planed over Matt’s bare ass.

"Let me blow you instead?" Matt offered, and was answered with a firm squeeze.

"An offer I can't refuse," Mark sucked Matt's bottom lip into his mouth and wrapped an arm around his back, pulling Matt on top of him.

Matt settled his legs on either side of Mark’s waist, grinding slowly on him. When he heard Mark stutter a breath, he went even slower, encouraged by the heated friction of the fabric between them and the the stiff cock underneath him. He nosed Mark's jaw upward to place biting kisses on his neck, then peppered lighter kisses down to his collarbone, adoring the vibrations of Mark’s moans against his lips.

He slid backward, kissing down Mark's chest and giving sharp bites to make his hips buck. He licked down his belly and gave a hard bite to the jut of his right hipbone, causing Mark to rock against him and gasp Matt’s name through gritted teeth. Matt kissed over the spot, tracing the indents of his teeth with his tongue. 

Tugging Mark’s boxers down, he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and trailed his tongue in feather-light lines up the underside, refusing to give more contact until Mark made more noise. 

Mark let out a rasping, frustrated whine, which Matt answered by settling his lips over the head of his cock, staring up at Mark with a slow-blinking, lustful gaze to show how much he was enjoying it. He circled his tongue around the tip several times before taking Mark's dick further into his mouth, ignoring his throat’s instinct to gag.

Hands roamed through Matt’s hair as he worked his mouth, sucking around Mark to draw increasingly higher groans out of him. 

“Fuck, so good Matt,” Mark panted, his chest rising off the table as he gripped Matt’s short hair.

The praise motivated Matt, filling him with pride. He smoothed his hand over Mark’s hip and swept his tongue over his cock, feeling Mark's thighs twitch as he continued upward.

Mark’s breathing became more erratic, and Matt gave his dick a dirty, tongue-heavy kiss before pulling off to bite his way up Mark's body, replacing his mouth with his hand. He jerked him off slow at first, holding Mark’s cock between them as he straddled his legs, balancing himself over Mark on his other forearm.

He quickened his pace as he licked up Mark’s neck to his ear. “Need to make you come, babe, wanna be good for you,” he rumbled, his voice just fucked up enough to hit the rough tone that he knew drove Mark crazy.

Mark let out a deep, short moan and held a tight grip on Matt's hip as he bucked a few times, powerfully. “God, Matt, fuck,” he cried, showing Matt he was close.

Matt gave his neck a hard bite and rolled against Mark's cock in his hand, grinning with success as Mark thrusted upward, coming against both of their bodies with a breathy sound that sent a reverberating wave of excitement through Matt. He stroked Mark through his orgasm and kissed under his jaw, reveling in the other man's relieved bliss. 

He dipped down to run his tongue through a pooling line on Mark’s belly, putting on a show of it as he stared into his eyes.

“Dirty boy,” Mark called him, breathlessly, his hips still twitching.

Matt smiled, open-mouthed around his flattened tongue. He bent back up to kiss him softly, letting Mark’s own come slide against his lips.

Mark took a few seconds to catch his breath, then gently rolled Matt onto his back. He broke away from the kiss, kicked his boxers off his knees, then pulled off Matt’s briefs in a quick motion, tossing them across the room.

“A little dramatic,” Matt remarked.

“Perhaps,” Mark replied, slowly trickling his fingers up Matt's thighs, effectively shutting up his clever commentary and replacing it with shaky breaths. 

The slow teasing and anticipation had Matt so hard that it almost hurt. His thighs spread wider in response to Mark's touch. 

Mark situated himself easily between Matt’s legs. His hands stopped painfully close to Matt’s cock. Just when Matt thought he was going to have mercy on him and finally touch it, he looked straight into Matt’s eyes and slipped two fingers into his own mouth. 

Matt whined, realizing what Mark was planning to do to him. He watched as Mark fellated his fingers in a preview of just one of the acts that Matt was about to experience.

Mark’s fingers emerged wet and shining as Matt eagerly awaited them inside of him. Mark then swept those fingers through lines of his own come on Matt’s chest, and _Oh. Oh fuck yes._  Matt let his head fall back with a loud groan, impatient for everything he was getting. He tilted his hips and bent his knees to give Mark easier access.

Mark rubbed a slick finger against his hole, and Matt rocked against it needily.

"Please, Mark, fuck," he begged.

Mark eased a coated finger into him, and Matt let out a whimpering breath, consciously relaxing his body. Lust and delight surged through him as he thought about the slide of Mark’s come inside of him.

He felt Mark curving, followed by a rumbling pleasure throughout himself as Mark found what he was looking for. He continued pressing in a gentle rhythm, working Matt up to a near-constant moan.

“You like that, don’t you?” Mark looked up at him, smirking. “So fucking dirty, Matthew.” He shook his head and slid a second finger into him as he gripped Matt's dick with the other hand. 

Matt let out an uncontrolled, gasping moan in response.

“Yeah baby, that’s what I like to hear,” Mark said before licking his lips and leaning down to take Matt’s cock in his mouth.

A low grunt left Matt’s throat. He couldn’t stop watching Mark’s movements, he looked so hot and so confident in his ability to have Matt literally in the palm of his hand. Plus, his unstyled hair made him look effortlessly handsome in a casual, intimate sort of way.

Matt laid back and let Mark handle him, not knowing which sensations to concentrate on. Mark’s come-coated fingers circled slow at his prostate as his mouth proved its skillset, licking and sucking in perfect syncopation. Matt felt fucking filthy and he absolutely loved it.

Mark brushed at his prostate and tongued over the slit of his cock at the same time. Matt let out an embarrassingly slutty sound, his hips jerking sharply into Mark's mouth. Mark looked into his eyes and raised one eyebrow, presumably in place of a smirk, then continued moving his hand and his mouth in the same slow rhythm. Matt appreciated how careful he was, considering he wasn’t using actual lube. Mark was a total expert with his body, loving and cautious still while he was succeeding at making Matt lose his mind.

He lifted off him for a couple of seconds, keeping his mouth on the head of Matt's cock, and looked up at him. His lips dragged as he spoke against it. "You wanna come for me?” He asked, giving a slow lick over it as he awaited Matt’s answer. 

 _Like you don't know the fucking answer_ , Matt thought, but as he watched and felt Mark’s talented pink tongue gliding over him, those stormy blue eyes daring him to say something, peering through a few curls of dark hair that had fallen in his face, all Matt could get out was, “Yes baby,  _please_."

Mark responded by fucking slow and strong against his prostate and sucking him back into his mouth at the same time. The sudden wet heat of Mark's mouth coupled with the determined, precise penetration sent Matt reeling. It only took two more firm presses into him to have him spilling into Mark's mouth, hips shaking and rising off the table with a desperate cry. 

Mark swallowed and massaged his dick through it with his tongue, continuing to rub lightly with his hand as Matt was left with nothing but exhilaration. Mark withdrew his fingers, holding them against Matt. He kissed over Matt's dick, then up his body, and Matt couldn't help but giggle at how Mark's lips tickled his sensitive skin. Mark flicked his tongue over his nipple on the way up.

Matt slapped lightly at his shoulder, smiling, and told him, "Get up here and kiss me already.”

Mark crawled up beside him and did as he was told, touching his lips, plump and warm, to Matt’s. Matt lazily snaked his tongue into Mark's mouth to taste himself. Mark's lips stretched into a smile as he laid half on top of Matt, petting at the stubble on his jaw.

“I think I like this version of the game a little better,” Matt smirked against Mark’s lips.

“That’s just because it’s the only way you can win,” Mark laughed.

Matt scratched his nails hard up Mark’s back and felt his hips twitch a little in response. “Pain slut,” Matt called him.

“Cumslut,” Mark replied, kissing along his jawbone.

Matt sighed at the delicate graze of Mark’s lips. He wasn’t wrong.

“So you wanna see if we can finish the game?” Mark joked, propping himself up on an elbow and reaching out to grab a blue striped ball.

Matt eyed him. “You know we’re gonna have to clean this table, right?”

“Fuck.” He dropped his head onto Matt’s chest. “Yeah just let me google ‘how to get jizz out of a pool table,’ and we’ll get right to it,” Mark laughed.

Matt cracked up, making Mark laugh more, both of them giddy and relaxed.

But seriously, someone was going to have to clean that table.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Sequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092576) by [Skipp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skipp/pseuds/Skipp)




End file.
